Crossing Borders: A Character Development Challenge
by MythicElf
Summary: The story of a hero, an athlete, a bartender, an alcoholic, a father, a son, a lover and a fighter all in one. A 30 day character development challenge on my dear dovahkiin, Dalamus. Rating changed at chapter 16.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alrighty, welcome to my 30 day character development meme! I wanted to do one on Dal because, well, I love him lots :3 hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

So, I took each prompt and selected the questions I could do drabbles about. Each prompt that I'm answering will be written in italics before the story begins.

…

_Day 1: Piercings?_

"Ow! Don't touch it!"

"Stop being a baby, Dalamus…"

"Folsi, I swear, if you touch my ear again I will have Alvani trample you." He didn't really mean it, no, but it _hurt_.

"No one told you to get two piercings at once, stupid," Folsi quipped, voice haughty. "Look, it's purple."

"Because you keep _touching it!_" he shrieked the words, falling backwards over the edge of the bench where he sat in an attempt to get away from her prodding fingers.

She just laughed, head tipped so far back that Dal thought she should've broken her neck. "Okay, okay, I won't touch it anymore, I promise. But don't expect me to share my earrings with you."

Dal snarled and threw the rag in his hand at his friend. "Get out of my house, girl."

"It's not your house!" but she just caught the strip of cloth and tossed it right back. "Stop throwing that around before it gets dirty."

The silverhead sighed and put the rag over the two gold hoops pierced into the point of his left ear.

~…~…~…~

_Day 1: Scars?_

If there was one thing Dalamus hated, it was animals.

He hissed lowly as Lydia gently cleaned the slash marks crossing his back. The wounds were shallow, thank the gods, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Apologies, my Thane," she murmured, though didn't stop the gentle strokes at his back. He'd long given up trying to get her to stop calling him that, but she was still the closest friend he had in Skyrim. She knew not to mind him as he seethed.

The Sabre Cat that had given him the wounds was lying somewhere southwest of Ivarstead, full of arrows and probably still bleeding everywhere. He was still partial to going back and turning it into a blanket.

"This is going to scar, you know," her voice cut into his thoughts again, and he noticed that she'd finished cleaning and now was coating the wound in a healing salve. Magic would've been easier, of course, but neither of them knew any healing spells so the slow approach was what they had to work with.

The dunmer arched his back slightly, the skin around the wound stretching in a way that almost felt good. "I'll be fine," he muttered, resisting the urge to just reach back and scratch like hell. "No use in coming out of this mess without any scars to show for it, eh?"

She chuckled, and the bed where they sat shifted as she leaned over to reach into her bag. "You worry about scars after you stop whining about these stitches."

"_Stitches_?" let nothing be said about how his voice cracked over the word.

She nodded, smirking a little. "It's not going to heal otherwise."

If there were two things Dalamus hated…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Welcome to Day 2! ... I actually fudged this first part a little, only because when I was done I forgot how the question was actually worded and didn't end up really describing her.

…

_Day 2: How would they look as the opposite sex?_

"…. What on Mundus did you _do_?!"

"It wasn't my fault!" it really didn't help that he couldn't keep a straight face. "I didn't do it… I don't know how…"

Dalamus growled and picked up the closest thing _she_ could reach – some book that _she_ hadn't been bothered to read – and hurled it at Marcurio. "You're a terrible liar."

"No, I swear…!" Oh, no, he was laughing now… "I couldn't if it tried…!"

"Then stop laughing, dammit! How did this even happen?!"

Marcurio doubled over, gasping for breath. "Maybe one of the gods… Maybe Mara…?"

Dal shook her head, resisting the urge to hurl something else at him. "Nura told us, she can't do that. What's Ky going to say when–"

"Papa, where's Daddy? Who's this _lady_?" and the boy wrinkled his nose at her.

Oh, dear gods.

Haskill sighed, almost pitying the poor mortal as Sheogorath laughed his ass off.

~…~…~…~

_Day 2: What do they smell like?_

He'd been home from Sovngarde for three days now, and Marcurio still scarcely let him go.

He physically couldn't. It was like knowing that he'd almost lost the mer he loved scared him so thoroughly that he just had to reaffirm that Dalamus was actually here. That this wasn't just one of Mephala's webs. That he wouldn't wake up one morning to find the dunmer gone forever.

So he tightened his arms around his sleeping husband, pressing his face into the soft hairs at the back of his neck, and inhaled the warm, fiery scent that was the dovahkiin's own. There was something about that smell; it soothed him, it reminded him that this was his Dal, his husband, his love.

His.

And he would never let go.

...

A/N: Yes, another shortie. u.u I promise these will get longer, I really do.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is less different time period, more Skyrim-Meets-Aesop's-Fables-Put-In-Skyrim-Context… but hey! I had fun writing it!

…

_Day 3: Choose a different time period and describe what your character would have been like in that time period._

Marcurio dropped to his knees, pressing a hand to his empty stomach as it roared in discontent.

He couldn't do this anymore. He needed to rest, at least. Admittedly, running for hours without food or rest hadn't been the best of ideas. The notion of just crawling under a tree and going to sleep crossed his mind, but when fire suddenly shot into the sky he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Of course, he had to see what it was – damn his curiosity – so he forced himself back up to his feet and trudged up the rise.

… Damn his curiosity.

At the bottom of the hill was an enormous dragon with gleaming white scales, writhing and roaring and spewing flames every so often. Tired as he was Marcurio made his body cooperate enough to run away –

Or so he thought, because he tripped on a rock and landed face-first in the dirt.

And by the time he'd gotten reoriented and ready to sit up, the dragon was coming toward him. Limping on three legs and holding one wing out to the side.

Marc's chest tightened; he didn't have the strength to run and he knew it, but the dragon was coming for him. But instead of attacking him it just laid on its stomach in front of him, the tip of its snout inches away from his feet, the same leg and wing stretched out to the side. When he actually looked more closely at the dragon's bloody side he saw a good dozen arrows sticking out between the scales.

It could probably kill him after this, but he reached forward and gently began to pull the arrows out. The dragon growled and groaned and even spit fire a few times, but stayed still as Marcurio continued removing the projectiles. And when he pulled at the last one, embedded in the soft tissue at the base of the dragon's wing, it roared and writhed away from his hands so violently that Marc thought it would turn on him. But after a few experimental flaps of the previously injured wing it calmed down and curled up around him, affectionately nuzzling its smooth-scaled nose against his face.

Instead of eating him the dragon brought him a deer that it had killed, and Marc gratefully ate it. The dragon brought him food for a while, and they stayed together in its cave.

But one day, while the dragon was away, a group of Imperial soldiers on patrol found Marcurio and, since he couldn't explain what he was doing there, they took him prisoner and brought him into the city. Thinking he was a rebel, they sentenced him to death.

When the dragon returned to its lair and found Marc gone it took to the skies, searching for him. As it flew it saw him, bound at the wrists, being led to the block to be beheaded. With an enraged roar it dove to the human's rescue, landing atop a tower and attacking the soldiers with unrelenting force. He flew about, spewing flames but watching Marc to make sure he wasn't harmed. The soldiers shot their arrows at it but the dragon gladly took the blows rather than let Marcurio be killed.

And after the dragon saw that the man had gotten away it turned and flew back into the mountains, landing heavily outside its lair with several arrows buried between the scales of its side and belly.

And when Marcurio returned to the lair and found the dragon dead, he gently pulled the arrows out as he had before and sat beside its head, petting the smooth scales along its nose.

...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, so I'll be putting bits of Modern!Skyrim in here sometimes when I feel like it suits me. A way to tell which it is: the first time I mention my dovahkiin's name, if it's Dal it'll be Modern, and if it's Dalamus it'll be the game's setting.

…

_Day 4: What are some of your character's hobbies? What do they do with their time? Favorite weather? Season? Where do they like to spend their time? What relaxes them?_

This was what Dal lived for.

These warm, sticky summer afternoons when the field is half mud because it's bloody _pouring_ outside and the thunder's rumbling along with the rapid beating of his heart and the storm glow's coating everything in this oddly transparent shade of orange.

He was running up field, not slowing down the least bit even as the opposing team – the Silver Hand – rushed up to meet him. He wove his way around three of them but narrowly avoided a fourth, predicting his awkward footing in time to send the ball over to Farkas but not in time to avoid tripping over the guy's foot, slipping in the mud and landing right on his ass.

But he popped right back up, his back and right side slathered in wet earth, and ran right up into the Hand's backfield. And by the time he turned around he was in the perfect position to receive the ball from Aela and send it flying into the goal so fast the goalie ducked instead of trying to catch it.

The rest of the game went more or less the same way and by the time the evening was over they'd beat the Hand by twice their score. The Companions cheered and fist bumped and slapped one another on their muddy, soaked backs and soon broke apart to go home. (Nobody said a word when Aela got in the car with Skjor.) Dal just turned and walked the three blocks to his and Marc's apartment.

He entered silently, careful not to disturb his fiancé while he did his work for class, and kissed him on the back of the neck before heading in to shower.

And later that night, when he was clean and warm and attached to Marcurio in nearly every way possible and pleasantly buzzed thanks to the drinks he'd mixed for the two of them, he thought that there was no other way he'd rather spend his days.

It wasn't the first time it had occurred to him, but every time he did there was no getting rid of his smile. He was doing well working as a bartender up at High Hrothgar, the Companions were a kickass soccer team, and he was going to marry the most wonderful man on the planet.

How can anything be better?

~…~…~…~

_Day 4: What sort of gifts do they like? Favorite drink? Hot drinks, soft drinks, or alcohol? _

"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed."

Dal couldn't hold back his grin as Marc took him by the face and brought their lips together. The silver of the ring on his finger was cool against the dark elf's cheek and the applause of their friends faded to a dull roar as he lost himself in the kiss.

Neither of them had family in the crowd – Dal didn't have any and Marc's refused to show – but this was even better. Their friends were behind them. Blood made no difference here; they all were family.

And a while later, after they were done shoving cake into one another's faces and Dal had hit Ria in the face with his single flower, the reception was on. Talen-Jei and Keerava had taken over the entire thing and it was marvelous, in Marc's opinion.

The pile of presents in the corner of the room was as tall as his waist, and most of the guests hadn't bothered with wrapping their gifts. It was mostly composed of alcohol and soccer stuff for Dal, books of various subjects for Marc, and little mundane things like towel sets and gift cards for the both of them. He was pretty sure he saw a toaster in there somewhere.

But, for now, he'd go and get a few of Talen-Jei's drinks.

Dal didn't ask why he couldn't walk straight the next day.

~…~…~…~

_Day 4: What's their favorite animal? Do they have pets? Do they want any?_

"Oh, Dal~?" Marcurio purred, sauntering up behind his husband with his hands behind his back.

"Hn?" the dunmer was only half paying attention to him; red eyes were glued to the map on his screen, wondering where he could get more of the ingredients for a drink he called 'Elemental Fury'.

"Hey, pay attention to me," the Imperial whined, pouting, and nudged Dal's shoulder.

Soon enough he realized that he would have to ask Arngeir for help to find what he was looking for so he looked up. "Yeah?"

"I got you something." Dal should've been afraid of that phrase, coming from Marcurio, but the genuine smile on his husband's face put those fears to rest.

"Really? What is it?"

Marcurio eyed the trail of paw prints tattooed up behind the dark elf's right ear, which he knew began at the back of his neck. He shifted the – thankfully silent – wriggling weight that wouldn't stop licking his fingers into one hand and placed in Dal's lap.

The elf had about three seconds to be confused before the white shepherd puppy put its paws on his chest and shoved its nose in his face, sniffing at his skin. Before he knew it he was laughing, holding the little thing up as it tried to lap at his cheeks and nose. He hadn't ever said he wanted a puppy but he had, and now Marc had gotten him one.

He knew there was a reason why he loved this man.

"Thank you!" he practically squealed, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the Imperial.

Marc chuckled and kissed his forehead. "I thought you'd like it. What are you going to name him?"

"Kylius."

...

A/N: there is a reason why Skyrim!Dal's son is Modern!Dal's dog. It'll come around later, though.


	5. Chapter 5

_Day 5: If they have an income, where does it come from? Do they have a job? Do they like it?_

Dal's still not sure how he'd gotten there.

Word of mouth, he'd guess. But, no matter how he'd come to the place, he distinctly remembered trudging up the steps to High Hrothgar because it was bloody _freezing_ out; by the time he'd gotten inside there were a good few inches' worth of snow on his shoulders.

Okay, he was exaggerating, but it was still a damn blizzard outside.

It was a dark little bar (or at least he'd thought so at the time; since then he'd learned that it was _much_ bigger than he anticipated) with a few tv's and empty tables up front, but not the bar…

So he flagged down the first guy he could find, a man with a long beard and a name tag that read 'Arngeir'.

"I'm sorry; we're closed for the ni–"

Dal shook his head. "No, uh, I'm Dalamus Releth, you called and told me to come in for the bartending position…"

"Ah," Arngeir nodded, "That was Einarth. Follow me."

The Nord led Dal down the hall and into a room with a long, narrow bar in the center. Within the stretched U was another man, dressed like Arngeir, who nodded in his direction and returned to closing the bottles in front of and behind him.

"Wait, Ein, this is the one you wanted to see," Arngeir opened the low gate in the side of the bar as the other nodded again. Dal wondered if he was mute.

"Alright, well, show us what you've got."

That was how it started. Six months later, High Hrothgar was featured in the Gourmet's "15 Best Bars in Skyrim" as number three thanks to Dal's drinks.

He'd be shooting for number one next year.

...

A/N: hnn, I forgot how short this one was... sosorry X|


	6. Chapter 6

_Day 6: Why do they have their resources? How have they served the character over time?_

At first, Dalamus didn't really care that he was the Thane of Whiterun. Sure, it was nice to have Lydia to fight with, but otherwise it was just some title. He didn't even really know what it meant.

And then he got arrested.

He hit the ground with a grunt, arms pulled almost painfully behind his back, narrowly avoiding breaking his nose on the pavement. The guard pinning him down with a knee was yelling and how was he supposed to know that Hulda would call the guard on him for starting a bar fight? Gods above…

The cool irons clamped down around his wrists and his heart sank. How could he find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller from prison? No matter how long he was there, he'd be wasting time and everything he'd worked so hard for lately would rot and he'd have to spend even _more_ time training instead of ending this Dragonborn nonsense.

… Wait.

Could they imprison him for this if they knew he was the Thane?

It was worth a try.

So just as the guard yanked him up to his feet (gods, his shoulders would be sore for days…) he sucked in a breath and roared, "WAIT! I'm the Thane, for Azura's sake!"

But the helmed Nord just snickered. "Yeah, right. To the dungeons with you, elf."

"No, I'm not lying!" he shimmied out of the guard's grip and turned to face him, the words coming out twice as fast when he saw that the other was halfway through drawing his sword. "Ask the Jarl. I _am _the Thane of Whiterun, as well as the Dragonborn. If you'd like be to demonstrate, I'd gladly shout you across town."

The guard didn't respond, and Dal had nothing more to say, so when he got bored of staring into the helmet's dark eye holes he inhaled and growled low in his throat. Of course he wasn't going to shout at the man, but it didn't hurt to intimidate. And at the sound that was nothing short of positively feral the guard jumped and scampered around to Dal's back, hastily opening the wrist irons.

"Apologies, my Thane," he mumbled, and the dunmer rubbed at his sore wrists.

… So that's how that worked.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Talos damn it, I forgot to post this yesterday. Therefore, you get 7 and 8 today. I really like this one. It's one of my favorites. B)

...

_Day 7: Where does your character live? How do they handle intruders (graciously? Violently?)?_

He wasn't awakened by the soft rattle of the lock being picked, but the way his ear twitched in response to the sound.

Dalamus rolled over, rubbing his eyes and wondering why the hell he was awake. Marcurio was still asleep beside him, which was weird because the Imperial slept much lighter than him. But that telltale clatter didn't stop, so he rolled out of bed and trudged quietly out of the room.

Across the hall, Ky's door was still closed and when he cracked it open the boy had made a nest of his bedsheets. In the center of the wild circle were his wild mop of white hair and a sliver of blue-grey forehead. Dal smiled and closed the door, his anxiety abating when he realized he couldn't hear the rattling anymore.

And then the front door opened.

Dalamus dropped to a crouch, turning to reach for the bow he'd stashed in the cupboard at the top of the stairs. He picked up the arrow lying next to it and crept down the stairs.

He stopped at the bottom step, notched the arrow, held his breath, and let fly.

The arrow went right through the thief's outstretched wrist.

A shriek pierced the still air and he fell back against the wall, gripping his wrist and panting.

By the time Marcurio had come down the stairs, eyes shocked and hands ablaze Dal was holding the man up against the wall by his neck.

"What… the _hell_… are you doing… in my _house?"_ the dovahkiin growled through his teeth. That heat was racing down into his chest, and it was hard to talk over the urge to Shout at the intruder.

"I-I'm sorry…" the thief gasped, grasping at Dal's wrist with his uninjured hand. "I n-need money f-for food…"

Dal rolled his eyes and dropped the man, turning to Marc and frowning up at the sleepy Ky at the top of the stairs.

"Daddy, who screamed?" the boy asked, voice thick as he rubbed at his eyes.

"We'll talk about it in the morning. Go back to bed."

Ky blinked down at his daddy. "Nn, okay. Good night, daddy."

It wasn't until he heard the boy's door close that he kneeled in front of the whimpering would-be thief, taking the wounded wrist and breaking the arrow that impaled it before pulling it out. He honestly didn't care about the yelp the man let out at this point; Ky was probably straining to listen for everything that was going on now.

"Heal him, Marc," Dal sighed, tossing the broken halves of the arrow aside. He crossed his arms and watched as the Imperial did so, strangely silent.

And after Marcurio was finished, Dal shoved a loaf of bread into the thief's bloodied hands and took a handful of his shirt, holding him up against the wall. "Get out. If you ever come back, the next arrow will be through your skull."

The thief nodded quickly, soundlessly, and when Dal shoved him out the door he stumbled down the stairs but kept running.

And Dal didn't regret a damn thing.


	8. Chapter 8

_Day 8: What are some of your character's notable flaws? How did they develop? How has this helped or hindered them in the past?_

Dal hated waking up early when he was hung over.

He rolled over in bed, hiding from the sun in Marcurio's chest. Why he kept the damn curtains open all night, he'd never know. Marc sighed, wrapping an arm around Dal's waist, and kissed the top of his head. "Hung over again?"

"Mhm…" the dunmer's answer was little more than a whimper.

"Babe, this isn't healthy…" the Imperial began, sitting up in bed and looking down at his husband.

"Shh," Dal hissed, rolling over to try and maintain his hiding place. But Marc kept shifting out of the way so he ended up sitting up as well, rubbing his eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it. Hung over."

Marcurio took him by the soldiers and shook him, hard, once. "You're _always_ hung over, Dal. We need to talk about it."

"Fine, fine," the dunmer grumbled, running a hand through his wild bed head just as Ky trotted in and jumped up into his lap. "Talk."

"This isn't good for you, and you know it." Marcurio said, reaching forward to pet the puppy.

"I don't really care, though," the silverhead hated sounding like a rebellious teenager arguing with his parent, but he had a headache and his mouth was dry and he couldn't see because it was too bright in here. "What time is it, anyway."

"Almost noon." Marc's flat tone fell heavily over the phrase. "Another point. If you had a 9-to-5, that wouldn't fly."

"Well, I don't have a 9-to-5. I'm a bartender, and I like drinki—"

"No, you like getting piss drunk and passing out. And when you don't pass out, you want to have sex. Sorry, love, but I'm not that fond of your whiskey dick."

Dal couldn't help it, he snorted. And then he regretted it because of the headache. And then he regretted it because Marc was serious and _thwack_ed him upside the head. "Ow, okay, I'm sorry…"

"You need to be." The Imperial's tone changed to something a little fonder. "If you keep drinking the way you do, your liver's gonna be shot and I refuse to push you around in a wheelchair."

Okay, that was the Marc he knew.

"Fine, I'll try. I make no promises, but I'll try."

"You better."


	9. Chapter 9

_Day 9: How are they with technology?_

"_Maaaaarc_, I need help," Dal whined, lying across his boyfriend's lap.

The Imperial smirked, flicking boredly through the tv channels. "I know. Are you just figuring this out?"

"Haha, smartass," the dunmer snorted and rolled over on his back before pointing across the room to where Marcurio's laptop was charging. "You're good at that thing, aren't you?"

Marc's eyes followed where Dal was pointing and he shrugged. "Depends on what you need me to be good at it for."

"The Companions are hosting this camp for the neighborhood kids. Kodlak said I have to put a presentation together."

"So you ask me to do it." the Imperial raised a brow, fingers tracing invisible patterns across Dal's stomach. "I never knew you were such a cheater, love."

"No, I did all the work. I even drew it and everything," Dal frowned, correcting him immediately. "I just don't know how to put it on the computer. Thus, help."

"Still not doing your work for you."

The dunmer pouted. "Then what do you expect me to do? It's going to look bad if I do it."

"Oh, relax, I'll teach you. That way it'll all be your work."

Dal hopped across the room, grabbed the laptop, and dropped down onto the couch beside his boyfriend. "Teach away, maestro."

Two hours later, Marcurio was doing the project by himself while Dal rubbed his temples.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Another favorite. I really like this one, like, lots. *nodnod*

...

_Day 10: How does their family feel about them?_

"Just look at him, at all he's done. He's truly grown into a fine young man," cooed a soft voice, transparent scarlet eyes brimming with pride.

Beside her stood another diaphanous figure, with a voice like ashes. "He had no business marrying that _n'wah_. It's a disgr—"

"Oh, shut up, Maeonius, the boy's in love. Let him be."

The Ashlander bristled but fell silent under the gaze of his wife. Across the shadowy plane another woman spoke, her voice flat and unimpressed, "Why did he not marry a woman?"

"Does it matter, Ahanabi?" answered a fourth. His skin was pale like snow and his eyes shone a bright, clear blue. "He is in love, as Raishi said. There is nothing to be done about it n—"

"I did not ask for your input, _Falmer_."

It was the Snow Elf's turn to bristle. "You know I am not to be compared with the Betrayed. I am just as much a part of the boy's lineage as you."

Ahanabi turned her nose up. "I never said a word to compare you to those blind monstrosities."

"You implied it. I may not be dunmer, but I am not _stupid_."

Beside the woman another, with a long scar crossing his face, scoffed. "And yet you allowed your entire race to wither in the face of the Nords."

"Excuse me? I don't see the dark elves claiming territory across Tamriel. You cower in the face of the Nords, and worse, the Altmer."

Thus began the war.

The entire plane rose in an uproar, every dunmer getting to his or her feet to raise an argument against their white-skinned counterpart. It may have come to blows, had an elder not stood on his feet.

"Silence, all of you!" he rasped, thudding the butt of his cane loudly against the floor. His skin was golden brown, a lighter color than that of the Redguards, and his eyes burned orange, even in the afterlife. "You shame yourselves with this bickering."

Many shut their mouths and bowed their heads in respect for the last Chimer in their line, and more still looked his way; surely he was ready to speak now that he was standing.

So on Voryn went, "We gathered here to grant Dalamus the blessing he deserves, _not_ to argue. What say you all?"

"Aye," almost everyone in the hall rang at once, no one able to deny the young dunmer what he'd certainly earned. The only exception was a dark shape sitting on the ground, far from the rest. Even after twelve years his crimson eyes were dark, hollow.

"Well? What say you, Helseth?"

When the dark one spoke his voice was just as abrasive as any of the Ashlanders', but he was not one of them. "Dalamus has grown to be a warrior, a hero, a greater father than I ever was to him. I see no reason why you require my help to grant his blessing."

"Because you are his father, a good one or not," Voryn had opened his mouth to answer, but Mastrius – Helseth's father – beat him to it. "He needs you for this just as he needed you the day you were taken to the chopping block."

Helseth flinched and heaved a sigh, averting his eyes from his ancestors as he stood. "Very well, let the blessing begin."

…

Marcurio was pulled out of his slumber when something ticked his nose. He frowned and rubbed at his face, but the second he put his arm back around Dal another had replaced it. He grumbled and forced his eyes open, wiping his face and waving the open air to clear it. But when his vision cleared there were lights rising out of his husband's skin, shining in shades of blue and purple with the occasional white or orange.

At first his tired brain wondered what was going on, but as he watched the lights surround his sleeping husband he recognized a blessing when he saw it. Concerns abated, he pulled the dunmer closer and buried his face in white hair, shielding his nose from the itchy little lights, and returned to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

_Day 11: What were they like as a child? Playmates?_

"But I don't wanna play!" Dalamus huffed, crossing his arms.

In front of him, Haleneri matched his stance with a pout. "But we need you! It's no fun if just the three of us play," she whined, gesturing to the other two that stood with her.

Beside Haleneri, Folsi piped up. "Yeah, Dalamus, we need you. Come play with us, _please_?"

Dal shook his head again, frown tightening stubbornly. She could ask him from now until Sundas, he'd still rather practice with his bow than run around playing tag.

But then Thoryn was talking in his low, quiet voice. "It's okay, guys, we can still play. If he doesn't wanna, we can't make him."

And Dal was kinda grateful, because he never would've heard the end of it if Thoryn had been on their side. After all, he was 13 and the rest of them were 11, so what he said was law.

"But, hey, I can play with you guys later if you want…" the silverhead offered after seeing the disappointed expressions on the girls' faces.

"Okay," Haleneri mumbled, still looking a bit bitter but less so. "C'mon, guys, let's go."

Folsi took the other girl's hand and skipped off. Thoryn looked back at Dal and smiled, wide. "See you later, Dalamus!"

And he ran off to catch up with the girls.

And Dal's stomach positively _flipped_.


	12. Chapter 12

_Day 12: Describe their best memory from childhood._

"Alright, pull it back as far as you can."

The wood creaked slightly as Dalamus pulled the string taut, arrow notched neatly between his fingers.

Father's breath was warm against his ear as he continued. "When you think you've got your aim perfect, hold your breath…"

Dalamus' lungs stopped entirely as his arms started to burn with the strain of holding the bowstring back.

"Now let go."

His fingers slipped away and the string snapped into his thumb, but he managed to hold in a yelp as the arrow flew through the air, sinking wetly into the soft place behind the deer's foreleg. That startled, squeaky little cry was the last sound it made before its legs gave and it fell over.

Dalamus was still for a moment, breath slowly calming after he'd held it, rubbing at the welt the string had left on his thumb. His eyes were wide as the deer gave one last twitch, and Father shook him from his reverie.

"Come on, we have to retrieve it before other creatures smell the blood." Then he smiled, drew his son into a tight hug, and said, "Congratulations, you're an archer."

~…~…~…~

_Day 12: Describe their worst memory from childhood._

"_Where are they taking him_?!" the 13-year-old Dalamus shrieked, face flushed and lined with tear streaks. But Mama held him still, far too quiet. "Mama, let me go! I have to go get him!"

He struggled and writhed until he could finally break away, running after the two guards as they dragged his unconscious father away. He'd latched an arm halfway around his waist, trying to pull him back into the house, where everything was safe and okay, but after being dragged a few feet himself one of the guards turned and planted the sole of his boot right on the young dunmer's face.

Dalamus yelped and rolled away, a hand to his nose as it pulsed in pain. Mama rushed over to him, drawing him into her arms as the tears began anew, and tried to shield his face when the guards tossed Helseth onto a cart and drove it away.

The boy could still see through her fingers.

That was the last time he ever saw his father.


	13. Chapter 13

_Day 13: Where did they grow up? How do they feel about the place now?_

"What about High Rock?"

Marcurio shook his head. "Too far. Plus we'd have to go over the mountains."

"Right…" Dalamus shifted Ky on his hip, the five-year-old's arms wrapped loosely around his neck as he studied the map his parents had tacked on the wall with big amber eyes.

"What about S…" the little one squinted, leaning closer to read. "Sum…merset Is-les. Can we go there?"

Marc chuckled and patted the boy's head. "Good job, Ky, but it's Isles."

"Okay, Isles. But it has summer in it! That means it's warm there, right?"

"Maybe. But we can't go there, it's too far."

Ky pouted, but fell silent.

Why choosing a place to take a vacation was so hard, they'd never know. They'd gone all over the continent and there was a reason not to go for each place they thought of. But Marc eyed the map, still searching… "What about Morrowind?"

Dal's heart gave a hard thump. "_No._"

"Why not?" the little one frowned, looking up at his daddy.

Marcurio's face softened once he realized what he'd done and he leaned in closer, kissing Dal's cheek and rubbing his back. "It's okay; we'll find somewhere else to go."

"But _why_?" Ky bounced in Dal's arms, demanding that his question be answered.

"Because I said so." The Imperial stated flatly, tone hinting that he wasn't angry but this conversation was over. The boy fell silent, but only after letting out a huge yawn.

Dal chuckled and hefted him up on his hip again, walking out of the room with the soft murmur of, "Nap time, I see."

When he returned from putting the boy to bed, he looked at the shape of Morrowind on the map with a gaze that wasn't really disdain and wasn't really disgust but was definitely all reproach. Marcurio sighed and pulled his husband into his arms. "I'm sorry for bringing that up."

"It's not your fault…" the dunmer mumbled, burying his face in Marc's shoulder. "I thought I was over it by now."

"I wouldn't expect you to be," Marcurio spoke softly into his hair, gently rocking from side to side. "Do you ever want to go back? Get closure or something?"

Dal sighed, pulling away a little, and stared at the map. "… Not really, no. It's not my home anymore, Skyrim is. I may not have meant to come here, but I'm glad I stayed instead of going back."

"Me too."


	14. Chapter 14

_Day 14: Do they, or have they in the past, had a mentor? What was their relationship with this person, and how has it changed since then? Who was their idol growing up? Who was the first person they fantasized about?_

"C'mon, Dalamus, you have to stop…" Thoryn was trying, he really was, but he didn't think any of his words were getting through.

"I'm not stopping anything," the silverhead growled, unceasing in his pattern of draw, aim, shoot, draw, aim, shoot. "I have to be ready for when my dad gets back."

Thoryn sighed, pressed the palm of a hand to his forehead. "We talked about this."

"You may have talked." Aim, shoot. Draw. "I wasn't listening."

The redhead walked over to his younger counterpart, putting a hand on his bow to lower it so he could make Dalamus fucking _listen_.

But, of course, it didn't work. Dal jerked backwards, face incredulous. "Get off, Thoryn, I have to practice. If he comes back and I'm not read—"

"He's _not coming back_, Dalamus!" the elder took him by the arms, probaly squeezing hard enough to bruise, and shook him hard. "They took him away and he's never coming back. He's probably dead by now and you're _never going to see him again_, okay?!"

Thoyn didn't feel as accomplished as he thought he would have when Dal's face crumpled.

"I know…" the fourteen year old sniffed, and his voice wavered as tears welled in his eyes before he buried his face in his hands. "I know, Thoryn, I know, I know, _I know_…"

"I'm so sorry," he found himself saying, and he really meant it. He wrapped his arms around the younger dunmer and pulled him close, not surprised when he broke into sobs.

"What am I going to do now?" Dal's voice was absolutely _broken_, and it made Thoryn's chest hurt.

"You're going to be fine," the elder said it with conviction, chin resting on Dalamus' head. "You're gonna grow up and be a kick-ass archer and you're gonna be fine, I promise. Don't worry."

The younger nodded, slowly at first, but as the words continued to sink in he grew more confident. "O-okay. Thank you, Thoryn."

The redhead grinned and pulled him in for another hug. "No problem, kid."

"Ugh, don't call me that." But he was smiling, and didn't move away from the hug.

It wasn't until later that night that Thoryn wondered if he'd felt lips against his collarbone.


	15. Chapter 15

_Day 15: Who was their closest friend, and why?_

"So, what did you do before you came to Skyrim?" Lydia asked casually, poking the fire she and Dalamus sat beside. They were on their way to Alftand, but it was getting late and cold and they needed rest before tackling such a large mission.

"Lived on a farm," the answer was short and heavy, as he gazed into the flame. "Most of the animals technically belonged to my mother, but one of the horses was mine. I've had her since; at least, until I got here."

"What happened to her, then?"

"She was taken from me when I crossed the border," the dunmer stated flatly, taking a huge, savage bite out of the horker meat he'd stuck on a stick and cooked over the fire.

Lydia watched him carefully, brows raised slightly. "Is this a sore subject? We can talk about something else…"

"No, it's fine," he'd barely begun to chew before trying to answer, "If you want to know, go ahead; ask your questions. I need something to distract me anyway."

The Nord nodded, sensing his anxiety over their coming task. "What was her name?"

"Alvani." When he smiled – a little one but a smile nonetheless – she felt a little proud of herself. "She was beautiful, this deep, chestnut brown with white socks and a circle right in the middle of her forehead. She was such a fighter, too; if you didn't belong around me she'd kick you, right off the bat. She really helped me get through when my mother died."

"And the Imperials took her from you? What happened to her?"

Dalamus shrugged. "I'm not sure. One of them had pinned me and when I tried to resist I took the hilt of a sword right here," he pointed to his forehead, right between the brows. "Last time I saw her. When I woke up I was on my way to Helgen, and—well, you know." Another shrug.

They stayed up late in the night, their impromptu campsite illuminated by the fire and the lights dancing across the sky, telling stories of years past.

Dal didn't know it'd be the last night he'd get to do so.

~…~…~…~

_Day 15: Have they ever been betrayed? By who, and how did it affect them?_

Dalamus had only been a little ways out of Whiterun, on his way to see the Greybeards, when he saw them. And he hadn't paid much attention to them, either; they were adventurers, leaving the city in search of their fortune.

And then, "We're here to teach you a lesson."

He'd just raised a brow at them because had they or had they not heard that he'd killed a dragon yesterday? But they went on ahead with drawing their longswords and battleaxes and advanced on him and Lydia. He rolled his eyes and –

"FUS!"

And while the leader was still reeling he notched an arrow and pressed the tip to the back of his neck. "Surrender or die."

The leader looked to his left and his right, at how his colleagues had been so quickly ended by his housecarl, and sighed. "I cannot best you. I surrender."

Dal lowered his bow but didn't put it away; he knew better than to trust him just because he said he'd surrender. "Who sent you?"

"Uh, I have a letter here…" he dug through his pockets in search of the item, and the dunmer raised his bow slightly just in case. But the thug did provide a letter, and Dal read it while Lydia made sure the other man didn't move.

_Here is the agreed upon amount. I expect you to faithfully carry out my request to teach a lesson to the thief Dalamus. You need not kill him, but I have no qualms about it if you deem it necessary._

_- Farengar Secret-Fire_

…. Oh, that little shit.

After all he'd done for them, how dare Farengar send people after him, over a healing potion for that matter?! Fine; see the next time he'd do something for them. He had very little need to be the Jarl's little call boy, and he had his court wizard to thank for that.

(When they trapped Odahviing in Dragonsreach, it took serious effort for Dal to keep a straight face when the mage ran away with his robe on fire.)


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Any of you guys who follow Dal's story (or have even read through this all the way to this chapter) now know that his hair is white. Then who is the picture of the dunmer on my icon and the top of this story? It's this guy. Also, rating changed.

...

_Day 16: What is their sexual orientation? When did they lose their virginity? Who to? Where? What was it like?_

Dalamus didn't notice someone coming up the path to the stables where he was brushing Alvani until he heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. His hand flew to his bow, just behind him on a ledge, and the horse's ears flicked up attentively, but when a familiar black-haired head popped up from behind the wall he relaxed and just grinned.

"Revyn!" he called happily, hopping up to hug his boyfriend. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Your door was locked, so I figured you'd be here," Revyn murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the silverhead's lips. "What are you still doing up here, anyway? You're usually inside by now."

Dal shrugged, walking out from under the stables. "It's nice out, why not? I was actually thinking of making a fire and sleeping under the stars tonight."

"Are you still going to?"

"Probably." The younger smirked and turned to face his boyfriend. "Why? Want to spend the night with me?"

"You know I do." Revyn smiled, picked up the bedroll on the ground beside the wall and tossed it over to Dal. "I'll help you build the fire."

A few minutes later Revyn was holding a torch to the pile of firewood in the center of a circle of stones. The fire flared and he replaced the torch, before sitting down on the bedroll beside his boyfriend.

He heaved a sigh when Dal leaned over, against his arm. "So, look…"

"Hm?" the silverhead's brow furrowed at his tone, and he looked up at Revyn's face.

"I, um… I'm leaving soon…" it was hard for him to get the words out, and his fingers drummed nervously against Dal's side. "I'm going to Vvardenfell to work for a few years, um… I'm leaving…"

The silverhead's heart stopped for a minute.

"How soon…?" his voice came out small, and he wrapped his arms around Revyn's waist.

"A few weeks."

Dal sighed, and snuggled up against the other dunmer's side. "I'm gonna miss you…"

"Oh, stop," Revyn rolled his eyes, fingers traveling up the younger's torso. "I didn't want to do this now."

"You're right." So he sat up, put a hand on either side of Rev's face and kissed him soundly. The elder smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer, pretty much into his lap. Dal's arms would around his shoulders, the fire's heat lapping at his back when he _did_ seat himself in the other's lap.

Soon enough Revyn's lips traveled down his neck, enticing a soft gasp from the silverhead when his teeth just barely scraped at the skin there, and his hand tightened in the elder's shirt when his teeth hit a spot behind a pierced ear.

"Oh, that little noise was so cute," he'd made a noise? "Do it again."

Dal was still trying to figure out what this sound was that he'd made when the other nibbled at the hollow behind his ear. He bit his lip over a soft moan, tilting his head back, and Rev grinned into his skin. "Can't believe I've never tried that before."

As the elder's lips and teeth worried at his neck a slightly nervous anticipation buzzed in Dal's belly. He didn't voice it as he gripped at Revyn's short hair, at least not until he felt his hand moving along his thigh, up, up, up…

"Hey, Revyn…"

"Yes?" he pulled away then, only slightly, and his hand rubbed at Dal's thigh in small circles.

"I've never, uh, done this before…" he trailed off, and – dammit – he was blushing. But he refused to look away, and held his gaze.

Revyn smirked and lifted a hand to his chin, thumb brushing the lip he didn't know he'd been biting. "I figured as much."

"So are you going to…?" he didn't quite mean to leave the question open, but the words didn't want to form on his lips.

The black-haired mer chuckled. "If you're asking me to take your virginity, then yes."

Dalamus snorted, wrinkling his nose as his fingers played in his boyfriend's hair. "You're making it weird, stupid."

"Ah, shut it…" and Revyn tipped him backwards, pressing his lips to the other's until he was on his back. The kiss was slow and deep and one of Rev's hands slipped up under the silverhead's shirt, fingers tracing the lean muscles there.

And when Dal scraped his teeth over the elder's lip, arms tightening their hold around his shoulders, Revyn let out a purr and ground his hips down between the other's legs. Dalamus' fingers traveled down his back, finding purchase in the cloth along his hips, and his own bucked up to meet him.

"Gods, Dalamus…" Revyn growled, booted feet digging into the grass as his hips rolled down into his boyfriend's. Dal didn't mind being crushed between Rev's body and the bedroll they were laying on, forehead pressed to the other's as they tried to generate as much friction as possible. But it wasn't enough; he wanted _more_, something _closer_.

Revyn chuckled when the silverhead's hands sank under the waistline of his breeches, gripping at the flesh there. "Eager, hm?" he murmured, slipping his own fingers into Dal's pants.

"Your fault," and he was smirking, Rev could feel it against his lips before he sat up on the bedroll. He had to say, the silverhead looked kind of cute laid out in front of him, face flushed and eyes bright with excitement. Dalamus arched his back, lifting his hips when he elder tugged his pants down, tossing them aside. And his hand was at his mouth, middle and ring fingers between his lips, gaze heavy in a way that made Dal's heart kick and the flesh between his thighs throb.

"Spread your legs," he said, the words a low purr. And when the silverhead did, Rev leaned down between his legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh.

Dal's body tensed slightly when the tip of his finger pressed against him.

"Don't worry; I've got you…" the elder murmured, lips close to his boyfriend's member where it lay across his stomach in an attempt to distract him. "Just relax."

"A little hard to do when you've got your _mouth_ there…" Dal moaned, hips rising against the other's lips.

Revyn dealt the organ a rough lick with the flat of his tongue, gentle smile widening to a smirk when his boyfriend's back arched as he took in a coarse gasp. "But I mean relax _here_," he reiterated, pressing the tip of his middle finger against the tight pucker. With a sigh Dalamus forced his body to yield to the intrusion, and Revyn purred a _good boy_ against his skin.

When the elder buried his middle finger inside his boyfriend to the knuckle, he grunted softly in appreciation. Dal was tight and warm and soft and perfect in all the right ways; he licked his lips and used his free hand to part the silverhead's thighs further. The less restricted view was just _beautiful_, and he wanted to hurry so he could get _in_ that but he couldn't ruin it for Dal by going too fast.

"Hey, turn over," he said, releasing his grip on the other's thigh so he could do so. And when Dal did, cheek pressed to the bedroll and ass in the air, Revyn licked his lips and breached him with two fingers.

This new position was perfect for Dal; the feeling of the other dunmer's finger inside him, slick with saliva, was so much more palpable like this. He found himself moving his hips back, against the gentle prodding because it wasn't going _deep_ enough…

And then Revyn touched some spot that made his entire body twitch.

And when the ring of muscle convulsed around the elder's fingers he couldn't wait any longer.

So he removed his hand and pushed his breeches down his thighs, ignored the silverhead's little whine and the way his hips pitched backwards. "Ready?"

"_Yes_, hurry up…" Dalamus moaned, already missing the feeling of having something inside him.

With a little smirk Revyn lined himself up with his boyfriend's entrance, holding his hip as he began to push in slowly. Dal gripped the sheets tightly, brows slowly nearing one another, mouth falling open around repeated gasps of "ah… _ah…!_"

When the elder hilted himself he was sure to be still before he asked, "You okay?"

Dal nodded slowly, his grasp on the sheet white-knuckled, and whimpered, "Mhm…"

Just to test, Revyn ground his hips slowly against his boyfriend's backside. Being buried to the hilt, there wasn't much movement, but when the silverhead moaned deep in his chest and rocked back against him, Rev knew he was alright. He planted his hands on the bedroll, just outside of the other's ribs, and slowly began rolling his hips into Dal's entrance.

He just had to remember to breathe. That was all. But that, by itself, was hard enough because Revyn was _filling him up_ and it damn near stopped his lungs. He was letting out soft, breathy little noises and he'd gone from gripping the sheet in pain to _clawing_ at it in pleasure. Revyn's hand was at the small of his back, the other surely bruising his hip as he plowed into the silverhead hard enough to make him rock.

And then he was on his back and the elder was pulling his legs up around his hips and his teeth were at Dal's neck and he practically _screamed_. Revyn's lips were back on his soon enough and his fingers tangled in that short, dark hair, pulling him as close as he could. But Rev was thrusting faster, harder, and Dal had to stop kissing him just to _breathe._

"Ah—_aah_! Ngh, ooh – _uhn_, mm…!" Revyn grinned against the skin behind the younger's ear, having moved there after the kiss was broken. Dal just made the cutest little noises, didn't he?

"I—I'm gonna…" the silverhead stuttered between his moans and grunts and pants, slipping a hand between their bodies to grip his cock. Revyn, coming close to his end as well, planted a hard kiss to the younger's lips and thrust into him as hard as he could, unceasing in his onslaught until Dal released a shuddering cry into his mouth. He growled through his own climax, teeth holding his boyfriend's bottom lip hostage.

Neither moved for a few moments, just staying in that very position as they caught their breath. When Revyn finally did roll off of Dal, he looked down and noted the white spots on his stomach with a little smirk.

"That was… amazing," the silverhead murmured, turning over on his side to lay his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," Revyn smiled, petting the younger's hair gently. "I take it we are staying out here tonight?"

Dal nodded. "I don't feel like moving now…"

And Alvani, who felt a bit slighted when her owner got up and ran off to mate, flicked an ear dismissively and returned to her hay.


	17. Chapter 17

_Day 17: Do they have any particular fetishes or kinks?_

"H-hey, Marc, wait…"

Amber eyes, dark with lust, blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I wanna try something…" and he rolled over on his back, taking the mage's hand and pulling him up closer. "I want you to cast on me."

Marc smirked a little, murmuring a few words, and a spell flared at his palm. But Dal recognized the red aura of the frenzy spell that made him scream the Imperial's name in bed, and shook his head. "Not that one."

"Then which?"

"One of the destructive ones," the dunmer grinned, eyes bright, "The fire."

"Are you sure…?" Marcurio raised a brow, flames beginning to dance along his fingertips. "This doesn't seem like a good idea…"

"We'll see then, won't see?" and he lay back on the bed, arms over his head, baring his chest to the Imperial's magic. Slowly, hesitantly, Marcurio touched his fingertips to his fiancé's chest, and almost pulled away at the dunmer's gasp, but the way he arched his back made Marc think differently. He dragged his hand down the plane of Dal's chest, carefully watching his face for any pain or discomfort, and his brows rose in interest when the muscles of the other's stomach tightened and flexed under his fingers.

Yes, the fire burned, but it felt so _good_ that he just wanted Marc to touch him everywhere. The heat made his skin prickle in the best way; there were goosebumps all over his body and he was arching up against the scalding kiss of the mage's fingers at his flesh.

"This _was_ a good idea…" Marc purred, lighting his other hand and skimming the very tips of his fingers across the inside of Dal's thigh. The muscle beneath his hand tensed, tightening, and as Marcurio leaned in between his legs he scraped his nails along the insides of his hips. "Gods, Dal, I knew you were resistant to fire but I didn't know you _liked _it…"

"Neither did I…" the dunmer gasped, hips wriggling up into Marc's hands.

"Glad you suggested this then…" and the Imperial leaned down to resume the task that had been interrupted before. He ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the dunmer's member, all the while tracing burning paths across his stomach and thighs. As he reached the head where it lay over his fiancé's navel he blew gently, the air cold against Dal's heated flesh. When he gasped and twitched Marc chuckled and sucked the head into his mouth.

Dalamus purred and buried his fingers in the Imperial's hair, gripping tight when he began a slow pace. His cheeks were hollowed and his teeth scraped just barely along Dal's skin, just the way Marc knew he liked it, so the soft moans of appreciation were well-deserved. Marcurio had to remember to keep his hands moving, lest he burn the other for real, but it was a little hard to concentrate on that considering the adorable little noises he was able to coax from the dunmer with his teeth and tongue. He pulled Dal's thighs up over his shoulders, bobbing his head over the shaft a little faster, taking it deeper and managing not to gag when it hit the back of his throat.

When Dal's mouth fell open around a series of gasps and grunts, using the grip on his fiancé's hair as leverage to pitch his hips up into Marc's mouth, the Imperial smirked (at least, he would have if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied) and let him. He was close, Marc knew it; he was only this vocal and this inarticulate when he was about to explode. And as he bucked and groaned the mage lifted Dal by the hips, one hand squeezing the firm flesh of his ass and the other holding the dunmer still when he _swallowed_.

And Dal keened, arching severely as he came, Marcurio's mouth working around his member one final time as he swallowed all of what the mer had to offer. He cut the spell when the other's hips fell heavily back onto the bed, licked his lips and grinned up at the panting form of his lover. "That was fun."

Dal grinned the next morning when he found Marc's handprint burned onto his ass.

He didn't ask for the other to heal it, either.

~…~…~…~

_Day 17: What's the strangest thing they've done in bed? Is there anything in particular they won't do?_

"So, what's your safe word?" Revyn was really excited about this, and it scared Dalamus just a little bit.

He bit his lip and said the first thing that came to mind as the other dunmer gave his dagger an appreciative look-over. "Erm… sweetrolls?"

Revyn glanced over at him, raising a brow, and laughed. "That's a new one, but it works." And he kneeled between Dal's legs, dagger in hand. "Ready?"

"No…" the silverhead had to be honest, and he shifted uncomfortably.

But Rev just smiled. "You know I'll take care of you, love."

And he did, so he just nodded and tried to relax when the other pressed the dagger to the dip at the center of his collarbones. And tried not to shiver when the other cut right down his sternum, red rising up in the steel's wake. Dal swallowed hard, watching his boyfriend eye the drop of blood that rolled down his chest, and he winced when the other's tongue followed the path back up the cut and to his lips. The copper taste of his own blood was weird to Dal, but he kissed back anyway. Actually, this entire situation was uncomfortable, but Revyn was moaning and smiling and watching the blood trail a little before licking it up and the younger didn't want to ruin it for him. After all, he'd be leaving in a week; the silverhead didn't mind pleasing him one more time before he was gone for good.

Revyn hummed lowly as he traveled the path of one of his boyfriend's ribs with the dagger, a good portion of the blade now stained red. It stung when he traced the line with his tongue, and Dalamus vaguely wondered why the taste of blood was so arousing. It was pretty disgusting to him, like licking metal, and the thought made him stick his tongue out in disgust.

The other caught the sliver of pink in his peripheral vision and grinned. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

"Not really…" and he rather disliked it, honestly. "I don't really wanna do this, Rev."

But the dark-haired elf just hummed, drawing lines across his stomach with the tip of the blade.

"_Rev._"

"Yes?" he asked casually, glancing upwards.

"Stop."

"No." and he smirked.

Then Dal remembered. "Fucking _sweetrolls_, Revyn."

And Rev sat back on his heels, a pout on his lips. "Aw, Dal, why? I was enjoying myself."

_Right._ Dal hadn't missed the lump in the crotch of his trousers. "Because I don't like being cut, Rev, gods."

"Why not?" if anything, the pout deepened. "I do it with Llythasa all the ti—"

And then he realized what he'd done, and all the blood drained from his face.

And then _Dal_ realized what he'd done, and all the blood rose to his face.

And Dal _punched_ him in the face.

"Get_ out _of my _house,_" he growled, ignoring the sting in his skin when he sat up. Revyn was on his back on the floor, a hand to his bleeding nose. "Enjoy that. Hope it gets you off."

"Dal, I…" he winced, removing his hand to look at the blood that had run between his fingers.

But Dalamus had already risen from the bed, walking away from the bastard who used to be his boyfriend. "Goodbye, Revyn. Have a good trip; I won't see you again before you leave."

They didn't see one another for much longer than that.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Gah, I didn't forget to upload yesterday, I swear; I was just bogged down with thirteen million things and by the time I was done I was too tired to do anything else. So today you get 18 and 19.

...

_Day 18: If applicable: who is their current partner, and what attracted the character to them? How did they meet?_

"You should find a boyfriend," Lydia remarked casually, taking a long sip of her soda, "No better way to get comfortable in a new city than to date someone."

Dal snorted around an onion ring, remembering nearly too late to chew before swallowing. "It's not new anymore. I know my way around Whiterun, Solitude and Riften now."

"That's no excuse not to go out with anyone," she grinned around her straw.

"Eh, I've got other stuff to do." He shrugged, and frowned at the obnoxious slurp that came from his nearly-empty cup. He turned to get up for a refill—

And ran right into someone's chest.

And hissed when the other's drink soaked the front of his jacket.

"Oh, _shit_, I'm so sorry," the guy rushed out, putting down his book and his now-half-empty drink on the table. "I wasn't watching where I was going, I'm so sorry…"

"No, it's fine," Dal excused quickly, just pulling the damned thing over his head because it was kinda hot anyway. Plus, the shirt underneath was practically untouched. "I should've looked before I got up, it's no big deal."

"If you say so…" he still looked kind of sorry, so Dal smiled to try and appease him. "You new here?"

The dunmer sighed and nodded. "Is it obvious? Do I have an accent and not know it?"

The guy gave a snort, a smirk slipping across his face. "No, no, I've just never seen you around before. I come here all the time."

"Oh."

"You do have an accent, though."

Dal sucked his teeth and playfully shoved the guy's arm. He just laughed, teeth bright against his dark skin. His laughter was contagious, though, and while the dunmer wasn't about to split his sides he did smile a little. So he offered a hand. "I'm Dalamus. Dal for short."

And the guy took it. "Marcurio. Or Marc. Whatever."

Lydia smiled and kept sipping at her soda.

~…~…~…~

_Day 18: What would be their perfect date?_

Poke.

Poke.

_Prod_.

"I know you can feel this." Poke.

"I can, and it would be nice if you stopped. I have to study."

"But you've been studying all _day…_" he whined, hopped over the head of the couch and flopped down beside the other. "We should go somewhere."

"Dal, I have four finals coming up, I have to study," Marcurio sighed, rubbing at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

"But you look like you're about to keel over, c'mon," the dunmer looped an arm around the other's and tugged a little, just trying to steal his attention from the enormous book in his lap. "We'll do your favorite…"

Yeah, it was a bribe, but he really wanted to save the Imperial from his work.

And it worked. Marc blinked at him from behind his fingers. "Really?"

"I promise." Dal had to try really hard not to grin. He loved it when he won. "We can go right now, if you want."

"Really?" and Marc smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Are you sure it won't be closed when we get there?"

"You know it runs late on Saturdays," the dunmer cooed, pulling Marc's hand away and pressing a kiss to his lips. "C'mon, get dressed so we can go."

"I am dressed!"

"You're wearing a hoodie."

"This is my lucky hoodie, it helps me study!"

"Which is exactly why you're not wearing it out," Dal called behind him, heading into their shared bedroom. "Besides, you know you wouldn't wear that where we're going."

"True."

Twenty minutes later the two were headed down the highway toward Riften. The drive would take nearly an hour, but Marcurio made something of the time by sticking his face in his book. At least, until Dal took it from him and tossed it in the back seat.

"No more studying," the dunmer mandated, and kept driving.

When they reached the city they boarded the "Spirit of Riften" and had dinner on the ship, city lights streaking the water as it slowly circled the bay.

When they returned to land and the ship docked, Dal took the Imperial's hand and went back to the truck, intent on getting home so the other could still have some time to study before the night was over.

At least, until Marc threw _him_ into the back seat.

…

A/N: So, I imagine modern!Riften to be like Baltimore, a port city with a little bay and stuff.


	19. Chapter 19

_Day 19: What do they want to do someday? Are there places they want to go? Where and why?_

"I think that's the last of it," Dalamus huffed, looking over the pile of enchanted weapon stacked on the counter of Warmaiden's. Ulfberth whistled at the new inventory, brows raised in approval, and gathered the amount gold that the pile was worth.

"Gods know you can't impress me after this overhaul," the Nord chuckled, "I wonder what the next one's gonna look like."

"There won't be a next one," Dal said, shouldering the bag of coins. "I'm retiring."

The dunmer just barely caught how Ulfberth's jaw dropped before he left. Upon returning to Breezehome, he dropped the sack of coins in the chest beside he and Marcurio's bed and sat at the edge of it.

"How much did you get?" Marc asked from the doorway, just coming in from Arcadia's Cauldron.

"Two thousand, two hundred. You?"

The mage came in and sat beside him husband of twenty-four years. "Eight hundred from Arcadia, twelve hundred from Belethor."

"Good. That's actually more than I expected," Dalamus nodded, leaving over against the other's shoulder.

"What do you want to do with it all?"

"I don't know, honestly," the dunmer sighed, "We should send some to Ky."

"Of course, but after that. Is there somewhere you want to go?"

"No." the response was quick, and Dal shook his head. "I really don't. We've been to enough places, seen enough things. We can just… stay here, can't we? At least for a while?"

"Of course we can," Marc smiled gently, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling a little.

"Besides," Dal's little smile in reply widened into a grin, "It's been a while since we've just been at home, for more than a week."

"It's a well-deserved rest."


	20. Chapter 20

_Day 20: If these don't apply already: do they want to get married?_

"Dal, have you seen my bag?" I could've sworn I left it here…" Marc called, searching the bedroom because he had to leave for class _now_.

The dunmer in question smirked to himself, slipping the box into a space where he knew it wouldn't be crushed, and called back from the kitchen, "Look at you, losing your stuff."

The Imperial frowned, leaving the bedroom. "You found it, didn't you."

No, he stole it. But Marc didn't need to know that. "Yep. Have fun in class, love; be good."

"I will, I promise," Marcurio smiled, kissed the elf goodbye and turned to leave, backpack in tow. "I love you!"

"I love you, too," Dalamus called back, stomach buzzing nervously.

…

"Alright, hand in your assignments on Ayleid literature," Professor Tolfdir said, already beginning to navigate the classroom to collect said assignments.

Marcurio unzipped his backpack, intent on turning his paper in, but a little blue box fell into his lap. It wasn't his, so he assumed that Dal put it there, and he flipped the lid.

'I think you know what this means,' read the slip of paper sitting in the small case.

Marc's heart stopped for a second. "Oh, my gods…"

He pulled the paper out, storing it in the pocket of his hoodie, and tried to breathe when he found the silver band inside. No wonder he couldn't find the bag earlier…

"Your paper, Mister Andreas?" Tolfdir was standing right over him, hand open and empty.

"Oh, yes, um… here," he handed his paper over to the professor and, as soon as he moved away, jumped out of his seat, phone already pressed to his cheek by the time he got into the hall.

The dunmer answered the call with "Hey, baby," and Marc could hear the smile in his voice.

"You sneaky bastard," he grinned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, elbows resting on his knees. "You stole my backpack."

"Did you find it?"

The smile on his face wasn't going anywhere all day, he just knew it. "Oh, I found it. Nearly gave me a heart attack in class. I don't think I understand, though; what, exactly, did it mean?"

Dal chuckled, and the Imperial could see that little smile on his face. "It means, Marcurio, that I'm asking you to marry me."

"Yes, Dal, of course," the response was immediate, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Dal was blushing, Marc knew it. "I'll see you when you get home, okay?"

Oh, right. Class. "Okay, I'll be home soon."

And when he went back to class, feeling all kinds of warm and giddy, he slipped the ring on his finger and went back to paying attention. It was nice, how it felt like it had always been there.

~…~…~…~

_Day 20: Do they want to have kids?_

"Hey, Daddy," Ky called from the table, "Can I have a little brother?"

Dalamus smirked to himself, turning the spit where their dinner was cooking. "No, Ky."

"Why not?" the boy whined, swinging his legs on the bench. "Lars has a baby sister. I want one, too, but not a girl because Mila thinks she knows everything."

"That doesn't mean you're getting one. Sorry, Ky, I don't think it's going to happen."

But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Every day, for the next three weeks, he asked for a little brother. Every day for three weeks, he was told no. And on the first day of the fourth week, Marcurio picked his son up and said, "Why don't we go visit Lars' sister. Maybe you can play with her for a little while, hm?"

"Okay!" he bounced on the Imperial's hip as they went out the door, and held his hand when he was put down.

Katria Battle-Born was a gurgling little 5-month old, reaching up with pudgy baby fingers to grip at nothing. Lars had recently learned how to hold her properly, and was practicing doing so, when Ky asked to try.

"Okay! Just make sure you put her head here and hold your arm like this…"

And the boy was grinning, cradling the baby to his chest when Lars finished guiding his arms. "See, Papa? Look, I'm good with babies!"

And then she woke up.

And started _wailing_.

And Ky gave the baby back faster than Marc had ever seen him move.

And as they were walking home a little later, Kylius clutching his father's hand, he mumbled, "I don't like babies."

"I thought so."


	21. Chapter 21

_Day 21: Who do they want to meet?_

Dalamus sat down in the snow, rubbing the stars and streaks from his vision as the Elder Scroll fell to the ground between his feet. The flapping of a dragon's wings filled his ears and blew the snow up around him as Paarthurnax landed close by.

"What business have you with the Elder Scroll, _dovahkiin_?"

"Are there any other ways to get to Sovngarde?" Dalamus asked, giving an experimental blink before looking up at the ancient dragon. "I want to go back, speak to the original followers of the Voice."

"I do not think so," he murmured, raising his head to the sky as he went on, "The portal at Skuldafn closed after you entered, so Sotiizsu'um and Felagyol said. Does the Scroll not show an image?"

"No, it's just making my eyes hurt…"

"You will go blind if you do not stop."

Immediately Dal kicked the Scroll across the snow, and Paarthurnax watched it roll. "What do you want with them?"

"I want to learn," his butt was getting cold, but he really didn't feel like getting up. "I want them to teach me."

"_Hadrim_ _bahlok_. Hunger of the mind. I understand your wish to learn, _dovahkiin_, but my friends cannot help you."

Dal should've expected that, but his shoulders sagged anyway.

"However," the dragon's spiked maw opened again, accented words rolling off his tongue, "I was he who taught them. You can learn from me as well."

The dunmer blinked. "When can I start?"

~…~…~…~

_Day 21: What would the character be like in their old age?_

"Hey, Harbinger," the elf in question looked up when Asgeir, Aela's son, knocked on his open door in Jorrvaskr. "Someone's here to see you."

In came a young Khajiit, white fur streaked with black lines, icy blue eyes bisected by a black slit pupil. He put a clawed hand to his chest, ears tilting back a bit as he bowed his head in Dalamus' direction. "Greetings, Harbinger. This one is called Dro'Shanji, and has come to request membership with you Companions."

"The Companions aren't mine," the dunmer rasped, his voice rough with age. "They are each their own. But you may join if you pass your trial."

He nodded in Asgeir's direction, and the Nord nodded back before turning to Dro'Shanji. "We'll go out to the courtyard and spar. If you can best me, you're in."

When the two turned to leave, Dalamus got to his feet and shuffled his way after them. Asgeir glanced back; "You're coming to watch?"

The dunmer smiled at him. "I was there for your first fight, wasn't I?"

"And you haven't missed one yet."


	22. Chapter 22

_Day 22: Describe one plot you would like to do._

Marcurio and Dalamus were just about to begin dinner when a sharp howl pierced the quiet night air of Whiterun. The mage blinked curiously at his husband when Dal just shrugged and went of eating; the dovahkiin's simple reply of "Aela must be out" was almost sufficient.

Almost.

"Will anyone get hurt?"

Oh, he was never going to get any food in him when Marc was making that face. So he put his fork down, propping his cheek on a fist. "No. She knows what she's doing. Besides, everyone shuffles inside when they hear that howl, and you can't open doors with wolf claws."

Marcurio eyed the little clawing motion the dunmer made with his hands for effect with a chuckle, finally going for his food. "Alright, alright."

That's when the scratching at their door started.

The Imperial jumped from the table, eyes wide and hands cloaked in fire. Dal held out an arm, urging him to wait for a second. He could hear the panting and whimpering on the other side of the door, and there must have been a reason why this werewolf – who definitely wasn't Aela – was _here_ of all places.

So he walked over to the door, a nervous heat slipping down his throat, and placed a gentle hand on the knob. He turned it slightly and –

And in spilled seven feet of white fur.

Dalamus blinked at the ceiling, confused beyond belief as the wolf began sniffing at his face and neck. In a few seconds Marc was there, his face blocking the view of the spice rack above their heads, and helped him up, pulling him out from under the werewolf. It, in turn, gave a little whine and sat back awkwardly on the floor before them, dark amber eyes looking up at the two almost guiltily.

… Wait.

Amber eyes, white fur…

".. Kylius?" Dal tried, brows scrunched in disbelief and a little hope that he was wrong. But, true to his fears, the wolf gave a little bark, looking pleased at this father's detective work.

Oh, he was definitely going to kill somebody.

...

A/N: I dunno, I thought about this but decided not to go through with it in the real story. I just thought it'd be interesting.


	23. Chapter 23

_Day 23: What is your character ashamed of?_

He'd barely made it three steps out of Blackreach before he sank to his knees in the snow, chest tightening painfully as his breath left him in little white clouds. He squeezed his eyes shut, stomach roiling dangerously, and when it finally hit him he leaned forward and retched, hard.

Lydia was dead. And it was his fault. And he'd _left _her there.

Once Dalamus' stomach stopped rebelling he reached behind his back, pulling at the Elder Scroll and hurling it across the snow. Damn that thing, damn Alftand and Blackreach and Septimus and the Greybeards and Alduin and everyone!

He never should've come here, he should've gone back to Morrowind the minute he had the chance… now the only friend he had was dead. He'd gone up those stairs so fast, to trap the centurion behind that gate, that she'd already run inside by the time he got back down.

He watched her die, the dwemer machine's blade gone right through her chest.

He'd been strangely indifferent since. Every shot, every Shout, every backstab was executed with cold precision. But, now that he was out in the cold and his adrenaline was gone, he just felt sick to his stomach. He was closer to Septimus Sigmus than Riften, so he could easily give the lexicon back to that crazy old Imperial, but he really just wanted to drink himself into a hole.

So he did.

~…~…~…~

_Day 23: What is your character proud of?_

"_Alduin Mahlaan!"_

Dalamus looked up, watching the dozen-or-so dragons circle the Throat of the World. He didn't know it they were celebrating or mourning, but their statement meant all the same; Alduin had fallen.

He'd done it.

The world was saved, all thanks to him.

Anyone would've thought the grin on his face was one of pride. It was, but he was more excited that he could go home.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: SO, I must apologize for totally abandoning this at the very end. I lost my book where I'd written the prompts and then it was time for finals and I was quite bogged down and lost all enthusiasm for this until a few days ago when I was in Sports Authority and saw a bunch of soccer stuff. :3

…

_Day 24: Describe one fight they've had in the past (physical or otherwise)._

Dalamus wasn't sure where he was going, but he didn't care.

Alvani was going through a rocky pass at a slow plod, the walk casual as they explored. Dalamus had never ridden her this far west before, so moving slowly was best.

And then she stopped, ears up and eyes wide as her large head swung around in confusion.

"What?" he urged, sitting upright once she began stepping backwards. The road ahead was clear, and when Dal looked around he saw no one. But Alvani was afraid of something up there, so he took her by the reins and went to turn around. "Alright, c'mon, girl…"

As soon as he did, an arrow whizzed right past his nose.

"Whoa!" and he dug his heels into Alvani's sides, urging her into a run, and they sped off in the opposite direction.

At least, until Alvani took an arrow in the hind leg and tumbled forward.

They rolled for a few yards, finally skidding to a stop with the horse landing on top of Dalamus, her breath heavy and frantic. He wiggled out from under her with a grunt, reaching for his bow where it was attached to his back, but it had broken under the weight of his horse.

Damn bandits.

"There he is! There's the rebel!"

Rebel? What?!

And then he looked up and there were ten or fifteen of them, with drawn swords and notched arrows, running up to surround him. But they weren't bandits, couldn't have been; they were wearing Imperial Armor. They were _soldiers_.

What had he done? He hadn't even seen an Imperial soldier since they dragged his father away.

Oh, well. If he was going to be taken in he'd give them a reason.

As soon as one of them saw him pull the dagger from his hip he leapt forward and pinned the dunmer to ground on his face, yanking his arms behind his back and tying his writs together. Dal grunted and rolled over, forcing the soldier off of him, but as soon as he looked up his vision was blocked by the hilt of a sword right before it hit him between the brows.

The world went dark then, and didn't begin to lighten until he was bound, gagged, and on a cart riding to Helgen.


	25. Chapter 25

_Day 25: What is one thing they feel strongly about?_

Dalamus sat that the head of the table at High Hrothgar, eyes going back and forth between Tullius and Ulfric as they bickered over the value of different provinces in Skyrim. There was a furrow digging its way into his brow, an irritated heat slipping down his throat, and before he knew it he'd inhaled and _lok vah koor_'ed right down the middle of the table.

The General and the Jarl and their respective companies turned to look at him, eyes shocked and brows raised. Arngeir, who had received the brunt of the blast, simply looked on, face flat.

The dovahkiin rose to his feet, voice still rumbling in his chest as he addressed the party. "I understand that you are at war, I do, but that is _not _the priority here. Your war won't matter if Alduin is able to leave Sovngarde, recovered, full of the souls of your dead. Every day this goes on you're adding to his power, you know, so this need to stop until I can defeat him. Yes?"

Ulfric was the first to nod, slowly, and Tullius joined him.

With another nod, Dal went on. "Markarth and the Reach are to be given to the Stormcloaks. They have nothing to compensate for as far as Karthwasten goes, and they also get Morthal and Hjaalmarch. The Empire will hold the Rift, the Pale, and Falkreath Hold. There's your truce. Happy? Good. Get out."

And when both sides opened their mouths to complain Dalamus narrowed his eyes, glaring down the table, and five mouths shut at once.


	26. Chapter 26

_Day 26: Do the ends justify the means in their eyes? Are they a leader or a follower? What do they feel responsible for?_

When the Blades first told Dalamus that Paarthurnax had to die, he'd immediately disputed the very notion; the ancient dragon had been a great help to him so far, and Delphine and Esbern wouldn't even be where they were if it weren't for him!

But now, sitting with him atop the Throat of the World, knees drawn up under his chin as he listened to Paarthurnax talk he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Yes, Paarthurnax had been extremely helpful, but so had the Blades. Should he trust their judgment, or his own…?

For the most part he'd simply listened to and done as he was told by those above him. The Greybeards, the Jarls, the Blades; he just went along with most of it because they knew better than him, right? But, no. Not this time. He marched right back up to Sky Haven Temple, and when Delphine asked if Paarthurnax was dead yet, he snarled and shoved her back.

"How dare you?" he demanded, voice rumbling with anger, "You have no right to wish him dead."

She was halfway through drawing her sword when Esbern, sensing the fight soon to unfold before him, ran up and forced himself between them. "Stop this!" he shouted, frowning at the both of them in turn, "You shame will not fight on the steps of the Temple. It dishonors you both."

"Let us fight elsewhere, then," Delphine growled, bucking forward at the dovahkiin despite the elder Blade's hand blocking her. Esbern held firm, though, even though his companion bested him in stature and strength.

"What's this about, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter," the dunmer huffed, righting his armor and turning away. He ran a hand through his hair, making out the shape of the Throat of the World in the distance, and when he turned back to the Blades his eyes were dark. "I won't kill him."

Delphine hissed, "See, Esbern? He's a traitor." right as Esbern's "_What?_" sliced the air. Dal had never heard the old man actually sound even remotely angry before.

But it didn't faze him, and he went on, "And I hereby cut all ties with the Blades. I won't be returning to Sky Haven Temple, and I won't be working with either of you again. Don't even try coming to the peace summit at High Hrothgar, you won't be welcome. Good luck killing Paarthurnax without me."

Both of their eyes widened in surprise and what may have been horror, but before either could say a word his Whirlwind Sprint had carried him far off.


	27. Chapter 27

_Day 27: What scares them?_

_The footsteps are getting louder and louder, pounding in an even rhythm against the stone-tiled floor, and he curses himself for hiding in a place where he can't see it. He can't run; he wouldn't know where to go once he gets through the gate, and if he hits a dead end he'd be screwed. All he can do is squeeze his eyes shut and press himself even further into the dark corner and hope to the gods that it won't see him. Why didn't he bring any invisibility potions with him?_

_The steps stop, and a loud, long hiss fills his ears. He can feel it now, searing hot against his skin, and just the thought has his entire body turning to gooseflesh. How long before it finds him? It won't give up, and there's no safety behind the grate anymore. It's been crushed, thin bars bent and twisted under enormous metal feet. And as the steps grow closer and closer he presses himself against the wall with a little whimper, biting his tongue so hard he's beginning to taste blood._

_But it doesn't matter, it's over. He's been found. The centurion killed Lydia, and now it's coming for him, too._

Dalamus drew in a sharp breath, finding himself staring at the wall on his room in the Bee and Barb. He lay still, listening for the echoing bang of the automaton's feet or the hiss of blowing steam, but only finding the crackle of the fireplace downstairs, a few late-night conversations and the still silence of night beyond that. His fists had been clenched so tightly that they ached as he opened them, and there were purple half-moons in his palms.

When he rolled over he found Marcurio watching him, amber eyes dull with sleep but open nonetheless. His voice was thick when he asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the dovahkiin replied, giving a single, resolute nod.

It felt like a lie on his tongue, though.


	28. Chapter 28

_Day 28: Do they value faith over reason or vice versa? Do they respect the beliefs of others?_

Dal watched, silently but impatiently, as Marcurio kneeled beside the bed to pray before bed. He wanted to be courteous and respectful and all that jazz, but he really just found it excessive and pointless. And as soon as Marc joined him in bed (finally) he made that known. "How much good do you actually think that'll do?"

"I was praying to Julianos," the Imperial stated flatly, as if that was supposed to mean anything to him. "Of course it'll do me some good."

Dal's brow furrowed curiously. "You did all your research, and put together the best work you could. I don't think it matters who you prayed to."

"Even if it doesn't, what harm is it doing _you_?" Marc snapped, frowning, and crossed his arms.

"Hey, I'm just asking," the dunmer put his hands up, more or less wanting to drop the subject completely now; he didn't want to fight. "You know I've never been much of one for worshipping and all."

Marcurio stared at him for a second before relenting and he sighed, leaning over to lay across his boyfriend's thighs. "You're right, sorry. I'm tired, my eyes hurt, and the people in my group are idiots. I think I'm just gonna sleep now."

"In my lap?"

"In your lap." And he yanked the covers up, just to prove his point.

Dal smirked and let him; he'd be praying to Stendarr later, when he fell asleep and started kicking.

...

A/N: So Julianos is the god of wisdom and logic, and Stendarr is the god of mercy and justice. Just so you know.


	29. Chapter 29

_Day 29: Are they manipulative?_

Angry is not a good mood for Dalamus to be in, especially while hung over and actually still a bit drunk. Angry is exactly the mood he's in, and Ennis' little lecture about his precious little goat is not making this situation any better. He's actually resisting the urge to strangle the man, or at least _fus ro dah _him across Rorikstead.

"Listen, listen," he interrupted, pressing a hand to his throbbing eye socket, "Just shut up and let me _pay_ for the damn thing so I can figure out where to go now."

The Redguard's voice raised to a shrill near-shriek. "You can't just pay for a prize goat like her! There's not enough money in the world to replace Gleda!"

"Do you know how hard it is to kill a _giant_?!"

"I don't care. Go get her back!"

"I'm not going to rescue a gods-damned goat!"

"You'd better! That "gods-damned goat" is worth more than your gods-damned life! _Go get my goat!"_

_Okay, that's it._ Dal wasn't listening to this anymore. He was the dovahkiin, he would _not_ take this from a farmer, of all people. Before he knew it he had a hand around Ennis' neck and was squeezing, hard, voice low and gravelly and primed to Shout at the man.

"You're so worried about your precious goat," he growled, tightening his grip, "How would you feel if I razed this entire place to the ground?"

"You wouldn't." but his voice was shaking.

"Oh, I would." This sudden malice toward the poor fetcher was unfamiliar, strange, and he'll definitely feel terrible later, but it felt so _good_. "You've heard of the Dragonborn, yeah? What I can do? My Voice can flatten this little village in seconds flat. We'll see about Gleda when I'm done here."

"Okay, okay, forget the goat…" Ennis swallowed, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing hard under Dal's palm. "Most of what you said didn't make sense but you left a note. The only bit that I could read said "after repaying Ysolda in Whiterun." That's all I know, I swear; please don't do anything rash…"

"Fine." He released the farmer and he gasped, rubbing harshly at his throat. "You were a big help, I really appreciate it."


	30. Chapter 30

_Day 30: Is the character religious? What are their views, and why or why not? How would they like to die?_

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Dad," his head spun as Kylius gripped his arm tight, keeping him from falling over when he started to lean to one side. "Come on, sit down."

"I'm—I'm fine, Ky, we have to keep going…" he wanted to press on anyway; there was a contract to fill. There was no time to sit.

"You are not fine, you're bleeding everywhere. Be still," the battlemage held him, not offering a chance for him to move in the first place. He pulled at the dovahkiin's armor, needing it out of the way so he could find where the blood was coming from. There was so much blood… He'd long ceased picking fun at his father for being terrified of Dwarven ruins, but now he had every right to be.

If Dal wasn't so out of it he'd notice how hard Kylius was trying to keep calm; he was stumbling through the words for a healing spell and his amber eyes were bright with stress, with worry. But soon enough his hand was glowing gold and Dal let his eyes slip closed, let the soft tingle of his son's magic soothe him.

"I'm okay, I promise," the words felt thick in his mouth, like they came out slowly. He was tired, so tired, and vaguely he thought that he was too old for this, but he'd wanted to carry a contract with his son, so he'd taken one. But a sudden flicker of uncertainty found its way into his head, and he wondered aloud, speaking still sluggish, "... Am I?"

"You're gonna be fine." Ky snapped harshly, glaring up at his father. But his hand was still going, he was still healing. "I've got you, everything will be _fine_."

Something else the Harbinger missed; Kylius was trying to convince himself of this just as much as he was trying to convince his dad.

Dal opened his eyes, the red dark and hazy thanks to the pain and blood loss, and gazed dreamily at the young mer. "Look at you… your father would be so proud. I'm proud of you, too, little one."

"Don't start talking like that. You're going to walk out of here just like you came in." but his magicka had finally been exhausted, apparently; he stopped healing and reached inside the bag at his hip, pulling for a blue vial. But in that time the bleeding had started anew, soaking that same spot on Dal's shirtfront all over again. Was it getting even faster now? How deep could it be? Damn dwarven centurions….

"No, no…." Dalamus raised a heavy hand and put it on top of his son's, pushing weakly. "Ky, no."

"The hell do you mean, "no"?! Dad, I can heal you, I swear!"

"No need… don't waste your time…" he pushed a little harder, sucking in a shaky breath before going on, "This is how I wanted to die, anyway…"

Kylius shook his head furiously, squeezing his eyes shut as they started to tear up, "Dad, no, don't say that…"

"Boy, listen to me," it seemed to take a bit of effort, but the dovahkiin snapped the words at his son, and he went on with a sigh, sudden clarity to his words, "I've lived a long time… had a full life. Killed lots of things. But your father is gone, and I miss him. The Companions will be fine without me; there is someone to take my place. You and the Archmage are doing well at the college. I am at peace, and I am ready to die."

"But I—" Kylius began, tears streaming down his face, but Dalamus silenced him with a weary glance, so the younger took in a staggering breath before asking miserably, "C-can I at least give you your last rites?"

"You know I don't care much for that… but if it'll help you, go ahead."

Before he did so, Ky spoke other words, a spell that eased the pain of his father's wound. He was rewarded with a sigh of relief, and the smallest of smiles. Dalamus was still and silent as his son gave him his rites, and upon the end he slowly leaned forward to place a kiss on the battlemage's brow. "I love you, Kylius. Never forget that."

Ky's breath hitched a bit and he swallowed a sob, squeezing his eyes shut. "I love you, too."

The Dragonborn lay back against the stone wall with a shallow sigh, breath already shortening, and Kylius didn't want to sit and watch his father die but he couldn't look away, either. So his eyes were glued to the man who taught him so much, who birthed him and raised him and helped put him on the path to being the man he was today, as he took his last breath.

It didn't make the loss any easier to know that this is how he'd wanted to die, no matter how much he told himself it should have.

...

A/N: And there goes the end of my 30 day, three month character meme XD hope you enjoyed it!


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